


For clan and honor

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [82]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Grounder Culture, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: What if Echo had been sent to spy on Skaikru a few days after the flares burnt down a village? What if Echo developed a bit of a crush on certain Skaikru leader?Could she possibly keep him safe from the impending war? Could she show him the wonders of Azgeda culture and change his mind about grounders?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Echo
Series: The 100 Fics [82]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/543928
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

The Skaikru camp is a mess of disorganized children under the leadership of a golden-headed healer and what looks like the only trained warrior among them – not that he is anywhere near competent enough to be worthy of that title. It has been built around the hulking form of their skyship and consists mainly of crooked, half-built log cabins and tarp tents surrounded by a cobbled-together wall.

The group is relatively small: less than 100 total, none of them older than twenty winters. There are a handful of orphans, the youngest of which must be around twelve. Their leaders are a golden-haired healer they refer to as princess Klark and a curly-haired man, Belomi. The healer has a handful of close followers, but, for the most part, the Belomi is the one who commands the most respect, his mere presence enough to capture the attention of his people.

Judging by the way the people treat their two leaders, Echo would guess that Belomi’s clan assimilated a secondary village led by Klark before falling from the sky. The healer’s knowledge ensuring safety for her people, but not much status.

Skaikru’s weapons are carved out of repurposed parts of their ship: chunky and metal. Belomi keeps the wall guarded at all times by rotating shifts and sends out teams to hunt and collect. 

She follows the hunting parties twice. They are pathetically inadequate. They stomp around the forest, stumbling over roots and slipping on wet leaves like newly born colts, get turned around easily while tracking, and their aim is tragic.

Not that the collectors are much better off, loading up on jobi nuts as if they could be an afternoon snack, and nearly confusing the poisonous haggle berries for something edible.

In fact, Skaikru seems terribly unfit to live in a forest, begging the question: how is Trikru having so much trouble whipping them out?

That is the reason why Echo is currently huddled on her tree, watching the camp. Heda wants more information about these invaders. Ever since Azgeda joined the coalition two years ago, the Commander has delighted herself in bending Queen Nia to her will, taking as much as she can, and trying to cheat her as much as possible.

But Queen Nia is playing the long game, forming an Azgeda alliance of her own, strengthening its army, and stocking up on resources. Soon she will be ready to overthrow the Commander and sit an Azgedan _natblida_ on her throne. With the fall of Lexa, a new Heda will raise, someone who will treat Azgeda right. And Echo will have been one of the tools bringing glory to her clan.

That is the second reason why Echo is here: to see if these pesky sky people would make valuable allies.

The camp is still asleep when Belomi exits one of the tarp tents; a threadbare cloth slung over his shoulder. He is a short man, with a set about his shoulders that reminds her of a beaten dog, a creature that is used to being mistreated but still refuses to bow down. He commands respect, and yet, there is a softness that blooms whenever the orphans are close.

IN the gray shadows of dawn, Echo watches him slip behind the great skyship and jump over the fence. He walks carefully, trying not to disturb the underbrush and looking twice over his shoulder to make sure nobody is following him.

Curios, Echo sets off after him.

He moves towards the sound of rushing water with the confidence of someone who knows the way. Every so often, the Azgeda spy has to duck behind a tree, when he stops to study his surroundings.

After a few minutes, he reaches a crumbling, vine-covered wall. There is no hesitation in Belomi’s step as he slips in a hidden gap between the stones. The opening barely wide enough for him to squeeze through. Echo waits two minutes before following, knife in hand in case it is a trap.

The narrow passage opens after a few feet, to a small lake of calm, blue waters, surrounded by trees and rocky cliffs. A waterfall feeds into the lake, drowning the chirping of birds. Belomi stands on a large boulder, stripping off his pants. He has already discarded his boots and shirt, and the early morning light highlights his broad shoulders and the expanse of sun-kissed skin beautifully.

Echo crouches in the shadows, admiring the Skaikru man as he jumps gracelessly into the lake, splashing around and paddling like a half-drowned cat.

 _He can’t swim_.

Something in her chest twitches with an unexpected wave of fondness. Skaikru’s lack of survival skills shouldn’t be endearing. And yet, somehow, they are. He is cute in a way that has nothing to do with the curve of his nose or the line of his lips.

The spy watches him splashing around, paddling from one side of the small lake to the other and finds a small smile tugging on her lips.

This is not the first time she has developed a crush on one of her marks. She is only human, after all. But, usually, she utilizes a more “hands-on” approach, infiltrating clans, living among those she is spying, which means she can act on whoever she likes and get the fixation out of her system. That is entirely out of the table now, so she delights herself in his clumsy swimming technique, in the way the rising sun shines golden on his wet skin. She watches as he rolls on his back, lying like a corpse on the water, eyes closed and relaxed as if he has forgotten he is in enemy territory, wholly vulnerable and dressed only in his undergarments.

Echo finds his carelessness slightly irritating.

Is he taunting Trikru? Is he actively trying to get killed? Are they aiming to appear irredeemably useless?

At some point, he heaves himself back on the rock where he left his clothes, the muscles on his shoulders rippling with the movement in a way that makes her want to bite them. He shakes his head and towels himself dry, taking his time to dress again.

“I know you are watching!” he calls, eyes traveling over the trees.

Echo ducks lower into the shadows, but his gaze slides off her without spotting her. “What the fuck are you waiting for?!”

He waits for a few seconds before huffing and starting on his way back.

***

Echo is ready to leave for Polis.

She has all that she may need from Skaikru: their numbers, their leader’s weaknesses, their strategies – or lack thereof; their strengths and weaponry. All Heda might need to send aid in whipping them out.

That’s when Belomi and two of his people come back into camp, dragging a Trikru prisoner. It is surprising to notice how short these Sky people are when seen next to a true warrior.

Short, malnourished, and clumsy, how have they bested one of Indra’s people?

This development piques her curiosity, and she settles once more on her tree, watching them take the prisoner into the metal ship since it’s the only structure sound enough to hold an enemy.

From her perch, the spy watches the comings and goings of people, listens to the muffled shouts that come from the inside of the hull, and wonders what is going on. Whatever else they might be, Trikru is prideful and stubborn; if Skaikru wants to torture information out of him, they are set for failure. And then, the storm hits, and she has to leave her post and find refuge in one of the many caves that dot this part of Trikru territory.

When she returns, the whole camp is hallucinating, which makes it the perfect time to slip in and try to see the interior of the metallic hull, not necessarily because she needs the information, but because she has never seen a skyship before.

Echo has eaten jobi nuts twice in her life and didn’t enjoy either time. For Skaikru, the experience seems to be mostly positive, as they dance around on the mud, and rut against each other with abandon.

One of Klark’s followers sits in a corner, eyes wide, clutching a branch like it is a lifeline. He looks directly at her so intently; she wonders if he sees her. He shrinks slightly when she approaches. “You can’t see me!” he announces boldly. “I have the anti-grounder stick. You can’t see me!”

A chuckle rises to the back of her throat before she can swallow it back down. Makes a show of looking around as if he had become invisible. The boy relaxes but continues to regard her warily.

What is it with these Sky people that make their innocence charming?

Someone grabs her by the arm. It is another of Klark’s people with slanted eyes and black hair. “Do you know where I can find the moon?”

“The moon?” She bites her tongue too late, but the question is so bizarre.

“I need her to collaborate.”

 _Makes sense_ , snarks a voice in the back of her head that sounds like Roan, he would have loved this chaos.

“Try over there,” Echo makes a vague gesture towards the tent farthest from the metallic hull.

“You are the best!” He saunters off, and Echo hurries into the skyship.

The inside is dark. To the right stands a weird contraption with metal squares and small, colorful worms weaving in and out of tiny holes. She leaves it be and moves to the left, towards what looks like a makeshift infirmary. There is a crate with spears and poorly constructed bows. She is checking the box full of white bandages and dried plants wrapped into small parcels when she hears someone climbing down the stairs.

Echo retreats into the shadows.

Belomi’s sister, Okteivia, is by the ladder, awkwardly helping the Trikru prisoner step down.

 _The plot thickens_ , whispers the memory of Roan’s voice in the back of her head when the Trikru man bends over and kisses the Skaikru girl before hurrying out of the ship.

Well, shit.

From what she has seen, Okteivia is Belomi’s greatest weakness. She is also the quickest way to the Skaikru leader. If she is making nice with Trikru, maybe that is the reason why the woods clan hasn’t destroyed them yet. Perhaps they are planning to assimilate them. But why? Have they found something of value in these people? Something she has overlooked? Could it be that they tricked her, pretending to be inept?

If that is the case and Echo doesn’t find it, Queen Nia will be furious about the lost opportunity.

Unwilling to find herself trapped inside the ship when the effect of the nuts wears off, Echo slips back into the forest.

She will stay until she finds out what possible reasons may hide in this underhanded action. What are Indra and Anya playing at?

Questions chase each other in her head as she watches Okteivia and two other Skaikru, who don’t seem to be under the influence of jobi nuts, heard their people away from the walls, giving them water as the effects wear off and burning whatever nuts remained in their storage.

Klark and Belomi return after sundown, bruised, and battered. They call a meeting around the giant bonfire and unveil their findings.

Echo’s heart stops.

They have brought Mountain Men weapons.

***

The Mountain Men don’t immediately smite all of Skaikru after they bring the black weapons into their camp. Still, the imminent threat has Echo fidgety and on edge.

The shadow of the Mountain looms like a twisted fairytale monster from the Great Waters to the Wasteland, preying on everyone, no matter their age, rank, or Kru. They are the creatures children ask their parents to chase out of their rooms at night, but, unlike the old crone, Bombato Mica, or the wicked germlings, the Mountain isn’t just a tale to scare children. They are real, and everyone knows of someone who has been taken, has heard of some village that was reaped. Even the smallest child knows that

angering the Mountain is worse than angering the Spirits because Spirits can be reasoned with.

The spy follows Belomi and his hunting party into the forest. Watching them attempt to hunt a boar is entertaining enough to distract her from her worries. They have gotten better: their aim is sharper, and they move more silently through the underbrush. But they still struggle to account for the thick skin and the angry tusks. The Skaikru leader jumps out of the way in the last second, swings his ax, but misses.

The boar squeals angrily. Then, suddenly, it stops in its tracks, small black eyes wide, nostrils flaring as it sniffs the air. The sudden change catches the hunters by surprise, and they hesitate long enough that the animal has time to turn around and leave at a sprint.

“What the fuck, Monroe!” growls one of them, turning to the small angry-looking girl, like it’s her fault the boar got away.

In the distance, a foghorn blares.

“Acid fog,” says the girl.

“Back to camp! Now!” barks Belomi collecting their arrows while the rest scampers towards the settlement.

Echo takes off. There are caves to the east; she can take refuge there until the fog passes. As she weaves between the trees, she is barely aware of the sound of metal snapping shut. A howl of pain. She should not care, but still, she looks over her shoulder to see the Skaikru man desperately trying to pry the jaws of a bear trap off his leg.

She should run. Who knows how far the burning fog is, or if she will have time to reach the caves in time? She should run.

Belomi grunts with effort. He could call for help; his people can’t be that far away.

But he doesn’t.

Echo worries the inside of her cheek. She shouldn’t interfere.

She walks over to where he is, making sure to snap a few twigs on the way, to announce her presence. Belomi turns, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. Blood gushes from the wound.

“Stay away!” he warns with false bravado. In his hand, the ax shakes. Snatching it away is ridiculously easy, and he shrinks away, looking incredibly young with sweat beading his brow and dark curls falling over his eyes.

The spy bends over and pries the bear trap open. The rusted teeth of the contraption have torn his calf open, dark blood oozing onto the dry leaves carpeting the floor.

He scrambles away, crawling back, eyes fixed on her.

Echo should leave him to his own devices, but she can already smell the foul stench of the burning fog, and he is in no condition to walk unaided.

She shouldn’t interfere.

But she grabs him by the thick material of his jacket and drags him towards the caves.

Belomi hobbles and jumps, trying to keep up with her. If he objects to being manhandled, basically kidnapped, he doesn’t say anything, for which Echo is grateful. They need to concentrate on getting away from the oncoming fog, and the last thing she needs is to lose precious time wrestling him into compliance.

 _Or,_ drawls Roan’s voice in the back of her mind, _you could leave him to burn_.

The word sends shivers down her spine, and she walks quicker.

They reach the caves when the air is already murky with the first wisps of the poisonous fog, and stumble deeper into the earth, away from the moss-covered entrance.

The Skaikru man limps as far away from her as he possibly can, leaning his back against the wall and dropping to the floor with a pained grunt.

“Who are you?” he growls. He has pulled a small knife from somewhere, and he studies her with a healthy dose of distrust. “Why did you help me?”

Echo doesn’t answer, watching with what she knows is an unnerving stare. A part of her wonders if Skaikru knows trig, or if they only understand gonasleng. She wonders if maybe Okteivia’s Trikru friend has taught her. What would Belomi sound like in the harsh vowels, tongue curling at the end of the looping vocals? What sort of accent would he have?

Deciding he isn’t going to get either an answer or butchered right there, he lowers his measly weapon and rolls the ruined pant leg to uncover the wound. He snaps on a small light that shines bright white. As far as she can tell, it comes from a small tube: eerie and white as moonlight, but bright as a miniature sun. Echo has to fight the urge to take it from him and examine it closely.

He puts the tube between his teeth, shining it down on the nasty wound, and tears some strips of his already torn shirt to bandage it. Don’t these people carry med-kits for these sorts? No wonder their clothes are so tattered. 

Echo watches as he bandages his leg with a threadbare cloth.

“You a friend of that grounder who kidnapped my sister?” he asks after a few moments of silence, setting his small light in a tube beside him on the floor, bathing the cave in its unnatural white light.

Echo stays quiet.

Okteivia hasn’t expressed her feelings to her brother. She hasn’t proposed a treaty or told him it was she who let him go. Why? Would she instead go to Klark? Echo has seen the siblings fight multiple times, but that is what siblings do, isn’t it? Could she have misinterpreted their relationship? No. Belomi holds his sister’s wellbeing and happiness above all else.

The silence stretches between them like a chasm. The Skaikru leader is fidgety, twisting his hands and shifting on the ground, casting his eyes around the cave, clearing his throat. The spy, on the other hand, has learned to control herself. She sits quietly, as close to the entrance as she can, keeping an eye out for the moment it’s safe to leave.

“Do you play tic tac toe?” he asks at some point, startling her out of her musings.

She frowns at him, but he just beacons her with a hand, either bored enough to trust her or deciding she isn’t going to kill him right this moment. Next to his outstretched leg, he has painted a grid on the dirt. “You know this game?” he asks. In the white light, his eyes look nearly black.

Echo ignores him, should instill the fear of Azgeda in him, remind him that she is a warrior and his enemy.   
She lowers herself to the ground.

“It’s a fairly simple game,” he explains, talking slowly as if he isn’t sure she understands. “You just need to try and put three symbols in a row,” He demonstrates, painting on the dirt with a finger. “You go first.”

It isn’t a strategy game, not really. It barely passes as entertainment, but they are both bored enough to play round after round.

At some point, he opens his backpack and fishes out a small pack of berries and dried meat. He sets it next to the grid and smiles encouragingly s when she takes a little blueberry.

“Thank you,” he says, cleaning the grid and repainting it for another round, “for saving my life.”

The light plays tricks on his face, glinting off the constellations of freckles splashed over his cheekbones, making his eyes soft and earnest and teasing a smile on the corners of his mouth. He is either going to die at the hands of Trikru or allay himself with Azgeda’s enemies; he has no business being charming and friendly.

Echo draws an X on the dirt.

 _Give me a reason why we should be allies; she_ wants to say. _One reason to take you to Troit._

***

Okteivia does go to the healer with her peace talks. Klark, her floppy-haired admirer and the Trikru lover, set off right before dawn, followed by Belomi and his people at a distance. They meet with Anya’s delegation – Indra must be in Polis if she is letting Anya conduct the talks with Skaikru – on a bridge and Echo courses under her breath.

She is too far away to hear what is being said, but what is evident is that Klark doesn’t make a convincing enough argument. The shooting is predictable, as is Anya’s wrath. The Trikru woman was never one for diplomacy. Unlike Indra, who is a cunning strategist, Anya prefers the straightforward language of the sword. If it had been Indra, Skaikru’s show of force at the bridge could have swayed her into proposing assimilation. Then again, Skaikru’s use of Mountain Men weapons could very well have pushed the woman to burn them to the ground.

Echo groans.

This is a mess.

With a sigh, she sets off to Polis to inform the Commander and Queen Nia.

Her Queen will not make a case for Skaikru, seeing as they are of pretty little value. Whereas Lexa will stand with Trikru, for no matter her words of coalition and unity of the clans, she always favors her clan first.

“You have done a good job, spy,” says Lexa, regarding her with distaste. Echo inclines her head, accepting the compliment with a small, unbidden, rush of pride. No matter how much she dislikes this Heda, how much she wishes it were an Azgedan Commander, she is still Commander, and Echo respects the Spirits. She won’t risk their wrath by insulting one of them. “Go to your master. Get ready to march with Trikru against the invaders.”

The idea of Azgeda marching beside Trikru is ridiculous. Still, she bows out of the room and wanders through the beautiful halls of the Commander’s tower to the Ambassador’s wing.

Queen Nia receives her with little fanfare, Ontari lurks in the shadows, observing everything with her unnerving honey-colored eyes. Echo ignores the creepy natblida, bowing low to her mistress.

“Took you long enough,” the Queen says without raising from the couch she’s currently sprawled in. “Talk, girl, what do you have for me?”

Echo explains the situation quickly and efficiently. As expected, Nia is not pleased.

“I don’t think Lexa will need to send the full force of the coalition’s army, Skaikru will fall under Anya’s forces.”

“Are you sure of it? They’ve proven to be quite resilient. And the Mountain Men haven’t taken them out. Their knowledge of Mountain weaponry could be an asset for our army. Do you think you could learn how they work on your own?”

“I would need close access and someone to explain. Maybe we could offer them sanctuary, in exchange for the knowledge of their weapons expert?”

Nia’s pale gaze is cold as frostbite; it pins Echo to the floor where her knee is starting to complain.

“Do you think you could move ninety people without any Trikru seeing you? The last thing we need is for Heda to think we are dishonoring the coalition.”

“What about the Mountain? They have never allowed a Kru to take up their weapons.”

“They haven’t moved against Skaikru yet. Once Trikru wins the battle, you will sneak into Skaikru camp and find as many of their weapons as possible, and then you will return to Azgeda. I will meet you at the Winter Palace.” She twists her lips into a grimace that could be considered a smile. “And if you find a weapons expert that’s still alive, you can bring them, too.” 

Echo bows out of the room.

To defy the Mountain so blatantly is reckless. Then again, if she manages to take the weapons to Troit, their scholars and experts can replicate them; the army within Troit’s walls can train and become a force to be reckoned with.

And, who knows, maybe the Skaikru leader will survive, and she can take him to Azgeda. Nia would reward his collaboration handsomely. 

***

Why is it that, whenever she isn’t looking, Skaikru’s settlement descends into chaos?

Echo comes back to her post to see blood sickness running rampant through the sky, people, and chaos threatening to explode at any moment. The bodies of those who have already succumbed to the illness are piled beside the skyship. In the soft gray light of dusk, those who are healthy scurry away from each other, their weapons ready. For once, the night over the camp isn’t full of boisterous laughter and music. The fires burn low. 

The sickness is a power Azgeda hasn’t been able to pry from them. A tactic to kill off part of a potential foe without risking the lives of Trikru soldiers. Echo is immune to it but has seen it kill a whole battalion in but a few hours. Of course, Trikru would use the sickness to soften an already uneven battlefield.

Belomi falls prey to it, collapsing suddenly, blood streaming down his face, body wracked with fever. The lanky boy that claimed a stick made him invisible, orders two onlookers to take him into the ship.

The spy shouldn’t mind, but a small part of her does. She doesn’t want him to die; he is engaging, kind, and strong without being cruel.

The spy sits and watches as the dark hours drag on. In the stillness of the night, she steals into the camp, careful to remain hidden in the deepest of shadows. She stays in the cover of the tarp curtain, spying the inside, with the improvised cots that are nothing more than piles of blankets and tarp mattresses stuffed with leaves.

Klark looks dead on her feet as she wanders around the prone bodies, offering water and sponging away sweat and blood. Belomi is shaking from head to toe, spitting blood on the floor, writhing like a dog in agony.

“Your fight is over,” whispers Echo, retreating once again into the night.

The spy doesn’t need to keep watch over the soon-to-be-slaughtered Skaikru, so she goes on a hunt for something to eat.

_You are getting despicably soft, spy._

Well, it’s not like she is helping them. As long as it doesn’t interfere in her work, nobody cares that she feels sympathy for her marks. And Echo would rather cut her own hand off than fail Azgeda.

In the distance, she can already hear Trikru’s war drums. Echo crouches behind a bush, tensing the string of her bow. A few feet away, a small rabbit points it’s little nose up, sniffing the air. The black, beady eyes reflect the light of the slowly approaching dawn.

Killing Skaikru feels as easy as hunting rabbits. Something about waging war against such a weak people feels wrong. Which is Roan and his stupid code of honor’s fault, Queen Nia never had a problem with kicking someone who was already on the ground.

She loses the arrow, watching it fly true.

The world shakes with an ear-splitting boom. Echo loses her balance, stumbling to her side. When she rights herself, her arrow has missed its mark, and her food has escaped. Over the canopy of trees, she sees a cloud of gray smoke rising to the sky.

“What the…?”

The spy pushes herself up, hurrying through the trees towards the origin of the smoke. Once she reaches the riverbank, though, her mind draws a blank. There is the first pillar of the bridge, but the rest of it is gone, shattered like a child’s toy, large boulders dotting the calm stream.

Echo stares.

The bridge is gone. How is the bridge gone?

That bridge has been there forever. It’s like the Commander’s Tower: eternal and immutable, and now it’s not there anymore.

The air smells bitter and acrid.

Across the river, Echo can see Anya’s army retreating, and a shiver runs down her spine. Skaikru has done this.

 _Maybe not so rabbit-like after all_.

***

The camp is bursting with the exhilarated energy of the victors of a battle. Outside of the walls, traps are being set, trenches dug. The usually rowdy children moving with precision and discipline she would never have thought them capable of.

Belomi is at the helm, and Echo finds a smile curving her lips, glad to see he survived.

“Ok, continue on this section and then report back to Clarke;” two girls nod and hurry to carry out his instructions while the leader turns and wanders away from the rest of his people. “Ok, Tic Tack Toe, I know you are there.”

He isn’t holding a weapon; his thumbs hooked to the belt loops of his pants as he stands at ease, eyes flitting over the trees, waiting.

Echo worries the inside of her cheek.

They may not be great fighters, but they command the weapons of the Mountain, and they can destroy ancient stone structures. Queen Nia has already shown interest in the former; the latter will please her even more. For a dizzying moment, she imagines Azgeda taking Polis, destroying Heda’s tower.

The spy drops down from the tree, the movement catching his attention at once.

“You destroyed the bridge.”

“Yes, we did,” he juts his chin out in defiance. “Whipping us out won’t be as easy as you think. We are not afraid of your army.”

“Your fight is with Trikru. My Queen doesn’t wish to wipe you out.”

“Your Queen?”

“Queen Nia kom Azgeda. She has heard of your plight against Trikru.”

Belomi looks anything but convinced. “Look, whatever it is that you want, spit it out, I have to prepare for war.”

Echo smiles, a man that doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Queen Nia is willing to grant you a place in her territory, in exchange for your knowledge.”

The Skaikru man’s eyes narrow as they flit over her.

“Our knowledge of guns,” he guesses. 

“It is a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“Are you going to help us fight against trikru?”

“Some battles are best left unfought. I can guide your people to Azgeda territory, where Trikru won’t dare follow.”

He stays quiet for a moment, turning the words slowly in his mind.

“What proof do I have that any of this is true? That you are not going to take us into a trap, a place where you can ambush us and kill us one by one.”

“I saved your life.”

“Why? Your people have killed plenty of my people before.”

“That was Trikru.”

“Yeah, you just stood by and watched as we were hunted down.” He narrows his eyes. “Do you want to know what I think? I think you are scared. I think you didn’t expect us to fight back, and now you are worried we might win. Am I off my mark?”

“If you stay, you will die—all of your people. Trikru warriors are fierce and strong. They have more men and weapons than you do. I am offering you salvation.”

Before he can answer, shouts and screams come from the camp. Through the trees, Echo sees smoke rising over their wall.

“What now?” grumbles the Skaikru leader, taking a step towards the commotion, before remembering her. “Do you have anything to do with this?”

“I am the only Azgeda in these woods, and I have been here. Talking to you.”

He eyes her distrustfully for a moment. “Alright let me deal with this, we’ll continue this conversation tonight.”

“I will wait for you in the cave where we took refuge from the fog.”

“Yeah, ok.” He takes a few steps away, but stops, looking at her with his brow furrowed. “Be careful where you step. Trikru is not the only one who can set up traps.”

“Wouldn’t want a scar matching yours.”

Belomi huffs and takes off at a run.

***

Echo has skinned a lot of rabbits in her life, and so the work is quick and efficient. Her prey had beautiful, glossy reddish fur and was big enough that she could get a pair of mittens done from it. The innards she throws into the fire, for the Spirits and the flesh she spears and sets over the flames to cook.

She misses the palace’s banquets. Misses infiltrating towns and getting to taste the elaborate stews served at the inns of Boudalankru or the pies of Podakru. Being alone in the wilderness is not fun.

Fortunately, her stay is about to end, and she will, finally, be able to bathe properly.

Idle hours birth idle thoughts, and the spy finds herself wondering what Skaikru will think of Troit. Is it similar to their sky city? She wants them to marvel at the many wonders of Azgeda’s capital, see that her people are nothing like Trikru.

The thought of Belomi in the lavish halls of the Winter Palace sends a shiver down her spine. Her imagination supplies her with the image of him sprawled on the furs of her bed, and warmth spreads in her loins. Now, there is a prize.

Skaikru’s knowledge will make Azgeda’s army the strongest between the Great Waters and the Wastelands, more powerful even than the Commander’s coalition. Her people will finally occupy their rightful place.

A creaking noise catches her attention.

“Belomi?”

She raises. The rabbit is nearly done. Maybe they can share it like they did his rations las time.

A shadow appears at the cave’s entrance, and Echo’s blood runs cold. A reaper

The hulking monster growls, its sunken eyes shining in the firelight as it prowls forward.

It wears the markings of Delphikru under the white ash smeared over its face. The skin is taught over bones and muscles, eyes wide and blood-red. It walks in the skin of a dead man, wearing the furs of his victims like prizes. It’s paws, the size of large plates, curl around the handle of a serrated Sangedakru sword.

Echo stumbles back. Unsheathes her blade, her mouth dry, heart fluttering against her ribs. 

The beast attacks, impossibly strong and fast. It reeks of rotten flesh and blood, the stench making Echo lightheaded. Panic gnaws at her muscles; her arms shake with it, sweat beads her brow. She tries to shove it away, knows she can’t beat it. The only option is to flee. The creature backhands her, and Echo stumbles against the rock wall. Pain shoots up from her shoulder, but she is barely aware of it. Her sword clatters to the floor as the monster overpowers her.

In the reaper’s shadow, Echo knows she is about to die.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echo wakes in the cages

She is in a world of nightmares, surrounded by monsters.

Echo was ready to die at the hands of the reaper. It would have been a good enough death; she would have gone to the halls of her ancestors. But the creature didn’t kill her, and now she is naked and battered, trapped in a small cage in a large, cavernous room bathed in sickly green light. To her right is an open space with shelves lining the walls. A man hangs from the ceiling by his ankles; long, thin red worms are embedded into his body. The worms sneak up into the ceiling. To her left, a long corridor lined with small cages. Kru cooped inside like hens ready to be carted to the market. The air is heavy with an acidic tang trying to mask the stench of fear, blood, and human refuse.

Her heart hammers wildly against her ribs.

“Quiet, child,” whispers an old woman curled up in the box beside hers. “It will be over soon.”

“What…?” Echo can’t breathe. The cramped space is closing in on her; the green light flickers like the shadows of fire. She can smell it, taste smoke in the back of her throat.

The woman’s pale eyes are kind and tired, short legs pressed against her chest. She only has one hand. Echo’s eyes latch onto the stump of her arm. She forces herself to concentrate on the scars, to try and guess how she might have lost the limb.

The knot in her lungs loosens, allowing her to take deeper breaths, uncoil her muscles. Slowly, the stench of smoke vanishes, the panic attack unhooking its claws from her brain.

She is not a rabbit staring into the eyes of a snake. She is an Azgeda warrior, and fear will not bend her will. 

“Where are we?” Echo can’t remember how she ended up here.

“In the Void’s antechambers,” says the woman. “We are already dead; our bodies haven’t realized it yet.”

Echo swallows and turns towards the front of her cage, she sneaks her hand through the grid, tapping around until her fingers find the latch. It is padlocked.

Alright, padlocks are easy. Padlocks can be opened. She has forced enough locks in her life.

The spy runs her fingers through her hair. Hidden in the crease behind her ear, she wears a small piercing: a short piece of straight metal, capped by two small beads.

She puts one of the beads under her tongue to make sure she doesn’t lose it and slips the metal out of her skin.

In the cage across from hers, a boy looks up with curiosity.

The angle is awkward, which makes her work slower than it should. The lock resists her, but it is only a matter of time.

There is a strange beeping sound, but she pays it no mind, concentrated as she is.

“Stop that,” hisses the woman beside her, and Echo barely has time to retreat to the back of her cage before the door swings open and two short men walk in. They talk gonasleng even though they look much too soft to be soldiers. One of them walks over to the man hanging from his ankles. The other watches the cages with a small frown.

“Creepy little fucks,” he huffs.

His companion has lowered the man. “Come on, help me take him to the chute.”

Together they drag the body towards a side door next to Echo’s cage.

“I was thinking; you should come tonight. We rented Grease from the video library. I know Marcy loves that movie.”

“Of course, we’ll love to.” They approach the cages like a farmer may their cattle. “I think this one will do for the last dosage.”

The first man shrugs. Echo slips her length of metal between her knuckles, getting ready to pounce as soon as they’ve removed the padlock.

She is Echo kom Azgeda, and she is not ready to die.

The first man pushes a metal stick through the grid. It is smooth and silver and hums lightly. For a bizarre second, Echo remembers the lanky Skaikru boy clutching his twig. _You can’t see me._

Then, it touches her skin. The air gets punched out of her lungs; her body seizes, every muscle contracting at the same time. Her lungs freeze. Ice and fire crackle like lightning through her body, burning and tearing through her, shredding and biting and burning, and it hurts as nothing has ever hurt before.

It goes on forever. Her mind plunges into muddy waters; her heart squeezes painfully, her lungs refuse to work.

Echo tries to grab the stick, tries to push herself away, to break the man’s hand, but her body doesn’t obey her. The piercing slips from between her fingers. She doesn’t hear it clatter to the floor. The only thing she can hear is the roar of her blood in her ears, and the whine lodged in her throat.

It ends so abruptly it takes her a few seconds to realize it. Her body is shaking from head to toe. 

_Fight, you disgraceful child!_ Nia’s voice seems to come from very far away.

The cage is open. It is now or never.

Echo surges forward. She spits the small bead at one of the men’s faces and charges at the other. It feels like she’s moving through chest-high water, her movements slow, clumsy. Her fist collides with the second man’s brow.

“Fucking bitch!” shouts someone from very far away. A hand closes into her hair, pulling her out of her cage too quickly for her sluggish body to catch up. She crashes onto the floor, pain shooting up from her wrist and leg. But she is free, and she will not go back in.

She struggles up, fingers hooked to claw their eyes out. Heart pounding. She snaps her teeth at one of them. She is vaguely aware of a low hum. The cold tip of the stick presses against her cheek, searing her skin.

The scream dies on her tongue. 

***

Echo wakes again in her small cage, feeling weak and sore. She can barely raise her head from where it rests. The one-handed woman stares at her with her pale eyes.

“It is better if you don’t fight them.”

Echo closes her eyes.

Her mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of sheep wool, her brain pounds against her skull.

“There must be a way out of here.”

“There isn’t, child. The Spirits don’t look this way.”

They lapse into silence while Echo recovers the mastery over her own body.

“Where do you hail from?” asks the woman after a while.

“Azgeda.”

“I am Louwoda Kironkru. Was on the way to my daughter’s wedding.” She sniffs. “You must be around her age. She told me not to travel alone, but… I should be there to tell her she shouldn’t settle for that good-for-nothing man, to tell her she deserves better and see her smile and drink and dance. I should have told her I love her.”

The words feel like a knife twisting in her chest.

“I am sure she knew.” The woman sniffs loudly, cleaning her nose with the back of her hand. “A daughter knows those things.”

***

The Mountain Men come for the one-handed woman. She doesn’t put up a fight, and they don’t use their metal sticks on her, pricking her arm with a long needle instead. She slips into sleep without any fuss, allowing the men to drag her to the chains and the worms and beeping machines.

Echo watches until they take her body through the side door.

How often do they take you until you no longer wake up? The spy wonders. What criteria are there to decide who is taken? How many Mountain Men are there? Why go to the trouble of hanging the Kru like cattle in a butcher shop if they don’t stay to enjoy the humiliation? 

She sits, curled up in her cage, and tries to make out the Mountain Men’s schedule, understand their patterns. Being in a constantly lit room makes keeping time difficult. But it is a challenge, and challenges distract her from the situation she is in.

The door beeps open, and in comes a woman in a white coat followed by one of the soldiers pushing a small cart. Crumpled inside, naked and clean of warpaint, is Anya kom Trikru.

They walk down the corridor, talking amiably about their evening plans, ignoring the Kru around them. A few rows down, they stop and shove the unconscious Trikru woman into an empty cage. 

Does this mean that the battle is won? Has Trikru erased Skaikru? It can hardly be the other way around, no matter how powerful Skaikru’s weapons, the odds were stacked against them. Not only is Trikru’s army ten times the size of Skaukru, but the Commander was ready to send soldiers to assist.

The spy wishes the Mountain Men had put Anya closer so that she could ask. If she’s already at the doors to the Void, she might as well die with her curiosity sated. But they haven’t, and attracting attention to herself goes against everything Echo has been taught since infancy. So, she stays quiet.

Six cages down the corridor is a Delphikru woman, who sings sometimes. Her voice is bright and vibrant, her repertoire full of obscene chanties and toe-tapping folksongs. It is a way to pass the time, so many end up joining her under their breath, forming an eerie choir of living dead.

The cage beside her stays empty.

The next victim is a young Yujleda boy. He is broad-shouldered and lean, more legs and arms than anything else. He begs, desperate and scared, before being put to sleep. His torn ear catches Echo’s attention. The tip has been cut off. It is a ridiculous thing to focus on, but she can’t take her eyes off its weird shape. Later she won’t remember the boy’s long nose, roundish features, or the color of his hair. The only thing she’ll remember is that ear and the sound of his voice begging for his life as it ebbed away.

***

Klark walks into the room one day. She is cleaner than Echo has ever seen her, her hair trimmed, curvy body wrapped in soft-looking pastel clothes. Such colors look out of place in this bleak and green-tinted room.

Her eyes are wide with disbelief as she looks around the open space, her hands shake, not daring to touch anything. Then, she comes closer to the cages, her face contorted in horror.

“Oh, my god,” she whispers under her breath. “Anya!” The healer looks around until she finds a key and unlocks the door to the Trikru woman’s cage. “I am going to get you out of here.”

The spy frowns. Did they manage to establish a truce after all? How come the Skaikru healer isn’t caged? 

The beeping of the door sends a hush over the room. Klark looks startled over her shoulder. Evidently, she has come without the Mountain Men knowing. What would they do if they found her? The healer scrambles into the cage with Anya and pulls the grated door close just as one of the women in a white coat walks in.

She looks around with her perpetually pinched expression, her dark eyes traveling over her prisoners, expression unreadable. She takes a clipboard from a shelf and hurries out without a word. As soon as the door beeps close, the Skaikru helps Anya to her feet. They disappear a few minutes later through the side door where the Mountain Men disposes of the corpses.

Echo leans back against the wall of her tiny enclosure.

If Anya makes it back to the Commander, Heda will know a way into the Mountain. She can call upon the armies of the twelve clans and storm the Mountain, destroy the nest of reapers, and free them.

Lexa could be the Commander who destroys the Mountain, making her the most powerful and influential since Beka Pramheda.

Queen Nia would be displeased, but the threat of the Mountain would vanish, and their knowledge would be up for grabs. 

She watches the entrance to the Mountain.

What books they must have in there, what delicate cloths and weapons. The metal stick that sends fire through your bones can’t fall on Trikru’s hands. Echo pictures vicious Ontari twirling one of them between her fingers, and a shiver runs down her spine. The last thing Nia’s natblida needs is more tools to be cruel. Still, Ontari is Azgeda and will use her power to better the lives of her people.

***

Echo wakes to the sound of pellets clattering down the tube and filling the small bowl at the back of her cage. Her whole body is sore and heavy, her limbs unresponsive. It takes an extenuating amount of strength just to open her eyes to the harsh green light. The skin around her ankles is chafed, and her mouth dry, as if it’s stuffed full of wool, her brain pounds behind her eyelids.

In the cage across from her is a new woman, wearing the markings of Trikru.

“I thought you were dead,” she says. There is a small encouraging smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Not yet,” Echo rasps. She tries to bite the words out like Trikru. She is good with accents, has always had a knack for imitating them. Her tongue doesn’t work right; her words come out slurred and nearly unintelligible. 

The woman looks around, her lips pursed into a white line. “The Mountain Men will pay for this. They will bleed for every life they’ve taken.”

“I don’t think there are enough Mountain Men for that.”

“There will be. Wanheda will bring them back to life so that they can pay.”

Echo frowns.

Spirits are capricious creatures, and most of them are not interested in human affairs. The only Spirit to consistently stay with the Kru is the Commander, jumping from body to body to rule the clans and impart wisdom. She is only able to do that through the bond of the blood that ties all of Beka Pramheda’s descendants together. Other Spirits come and go, playing with the Kru like a child with a new toy. The Spirit of Death, Wanheda, has never been one of them.

“Wanheda doesn’t care about the Kru, as long as They can keep drinking our spilled blood.”

“You are wrong. I’ve seen her. She brought a man back from the dead. She commanded the reaper back and has sworn to do the same to all of them in exchange for the Mountain’s blood. She is working with Heda and the coalition army. Not even Skaikru can escape Wanheda’s command.”

The spy looks up.

“Skaikru lives?”

She twists her mouth with evident distaste. “They fought valiantly and destroyed Anya’s army and the delegation Heda sent to assist. Burned them in a ring of fire. Now the warriors are trapped in here, alongside our people.”

That explains Klark coming through the Mountain Men’s door, not necessarily why they aren’t in cages like the rest of the Kru. But then again, the Mountain Men didn’t smite Skaikru when they used their weapons. Maybe the destruction of the bridge was the proof of power the Mountain needed to take them in? But if that is the case, why did Klark leave? Why hide from the woman in the white coat?

Echo takes one of the pellets in her bowl and pushes it clumsily between her lips. It is dry and chewy, but she needs to rebuild her strength before they retake her.

Maybe, Skaikru is kept as a sort of hostage. Free to roam about but without any real power, trapped in a web of politics. Which, considering what she knows of Skaikru, may be even more deadly than the cages.

She closes her eyes.

Whatever comes next, she only needs to keep herself alive long enough for Heda’s army to come and rescue them. With Wanheda’s power beside her, Heda will be invincible. The Mountain will fall.

Like most soldiers, Echo has grown on stories of Wanheda, the Dark Shadow flying high over battlefields. She has donned the ash and coal in honor of the Creator of Death, has strung beads made of bones around her wrists to protect herself from Their icy stare. Death doesn’t care about the clan; They only want the blood to drench their coat and quench Their thirst. Death can’t be bought with trinkets like you might buy Fox’s favor. They don’t offer truce or help; They need blood to keep Their coat wet, for if it dries, it will petrify, and nothing will ever die again.

How angry must Heda have been after seeing her former tutor crawl out of the Mountain to compel Wanheda to aid her?

Echo has seen the Commander many times, sometimes studying her from afar, others posing as Queen Nia’s handmaiden. She was in Polis when the remains of Costia were delivered – mainly because Queen Nia couldn’t be and wanted a detailed description of Heda’s reaction. Echo has seen her broken with sorrow and seething with anger; never has she summoned the power of another Spirit. Heda reigns alone. She allows other Spirits in her territory, but they never share her throne.

Although she is exhausted, a thrill of excitement rolls through her veins. This may change everything. This is the sort of tale that grandchildren’s grandchildren ask to hear over and over. It is the sort of moment that will be remembered with the same reverence as Praimfaya and Beka Pramheda’s arrival.

The spy chews on another disgusting pellet.

Echo will be here to see it.

She will survive, and she will witness the Fall of the Mountain. She will survive and fight alongside Heda and Wanheda’s armies and bring glory to Azgeda.

***

The beeping of the door always sends a shivering hush over the cages. Now it comes with the inevitable thrill of expectation. Breath snags in throats and bodies lean forward to see better who enters. The promise of an imminent rescue shimmers in the air. For the heartbeat between the beep and the opening of the door, the image of Heda’s silhouette shines brightly in their minds, only to be shattered by the stocky frames of Mountain Men.

Echo stomps on the bitter disappointment and sits back.

Today they come dragging their cart full of unconscious bodies. From what she can see, it’s four males, carelessly stacked on top of one another. The two men walk down the corridor, looking for empty spaces in which to store their prey. For lack of anything better to do, the spy strains to look into the cart, see if she recognizes any of them if she can guess which clan they belong to.

The first one goes into the bottom row across from Echo’s. Beneath him is a short man with tan freckled skin and disheveled hair. His slanted eyes are closed, but she has spent enough time looking at him, to be able to recognize the curve of his nose and the line of his mouth everywhere.

Belomi.

She must make some sort of sound, because one of the Mountain Men, a chubby redhead with small dark turns. He follows her gaze to the cart. “Friend of yours?”

Echo schools her face and turns her head away, letting her hair fall between her and her captor.

“What are you doing, Greg?”

“I think she knows this one.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the redhead, Greg, poke Belomi’s ribs.

“Well, sucks to be her, I guess. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Greg opens the empty cage beside her. The second man sighs. “I am not hauling this guy up there.”

“Come on, Tony. They’re friends. At least they get to say goodbye.”

The second man takes off his cap and rubs his closely cropped hair. He huffs with annoyance but helps Greg push Belomi into the cage.

Echo doesn’t dare move. She stays with her legs pressed against her chest and her hair acting as a sort of screen to hide her face from the two Mountain Men. She doesn’t see where the other two prisoners are stashed. Greg stops beside her cage on his way out.

“I know you can’t understand me. But I am grateful for what your people are giving us.”

“Come on, Greg!”

The stranger heaves a sigh. “I am sorry about your friend.” He leaves, and the door beeps behind them. For a few minutes after, tense silence crackles in the green-tinted room. Then, slowly, the hum of quiet conversations starts once again, filling the air with the familiar notes of trigedasleng. At some point, the room with the rumbling of pellets tumbling down tubes and clacking food bowls drowns all conversation.

The spy knows it takes some time for the new arrivals to wake up, but it seems to take the Skaikru man even longer.

He groans, his body tensing as he raises. Echo can nearly taste his panic and confusion as he shakes the front of his enclosure, pulling on the padlock and slamming his body against the grid. The noise of metal against metal attracts the attention of the prisoners around them.

“Quiet,” she whispers. “They take the strongest first.”

He turns towards her. It takes him a moment to recognize her. “Tic Tac Toe?”

Echo’s lip curls into a half-smile without her consent. “I glad to see Trikru didn’t destroy you, Belomi.”

“How long have you been here?”

“How long since we last talked?”

His face spasms. “Dear God,” he whispers and turns back towards the front. “I need to get out of this cage.”

“And then what?”

“Then I kill everyone in this Mountain.”

There is something thrilling in the growl of his voice and the way his eyes flash with righteous anger.

Echo cocks her head. If he plans to break the padlock, he’s in for a bitter disappointment, and if he is planning on overpowering the Mountain Men, that plan is bound to fail as soon as he feels the bite of the metal stick.

“Are they going to bring all of your people from the Mountain?”

He looks at her. “I wasn’t captured with the others. I was supposed to infiltrate at the door, but…” His expression closes off, and he kicks the door of his cage in frustration.

“But plans change,” offers Echo.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Heda, sent you?”

He nods, and she feels dread sinking into her stomach. There is no way out of the cages, and if the Commander is counting on him to do something inside the Mountain to assist in the war effort, now it will remain undone.

“Why did she send you?” Why not one of her larger, stronger warriors? Why not someone she trusts more? A Trikru warrior or one of the members of her personal guard?

“We had the map, plus we know how to work a radio, and we need Raven to disable the acid fog.”

Echo doesn’t groan in frustration. If only she still had her piercing. She could quickly force the lock and free him.

“They always come in pairs. And they use a metal stick full of fire to subdue us before they put us to sleep.” Belomi frowns at her. “After that, they hang you from your ankles for a while and feed you to the worms” she points at the figure they can see, hanging upside down.

“Those are tubes,” he says softly. “They take your blood.”

“To get our strength?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Echo looks at the hanging man. He is large, with bulging muscles and twenty kill marks etched on his shoulder. Taking his strength makes sense. But what could they possibly gain from the Yuljeda boy with the shorn ear-tip? Of the one-handed Louwoda Kironkru woman? Neither were warriors, neither had kill marks or great courage. The Louwoda Kironkru woman was kind, what use has the Mountain for kindness?

“Hey,” the hand on her knee makes her flinch and scramble back with her heart in her mouth. On the other side of the metal grate that separates them, Belomi smiles softly at her. “It’ll be ok.”

His hand is big and square, calloused, and splattered with freckles like constellations. It feels heavy on her knee, grounding her. When she looks into his eyes, they are earnest and kind, full of certainty he can’t possibly be feeling.

“We will get out of here.”

Her mouth is dry. Something about the arch of his eyebrows makes her want to believe him, to take his reassurance and wrap it around her shoulders like a blanket.

“Echo, my name is Echo.”

His smile curls the corner of his eye. He raises his hand off her knee and offers it to her. “Bellamy,” he says slowly, enunciating it clearly in a way that is meant to correct her, but not make it obvious. He should be a teacher.

She clasps his forearm. His fingers wrap around her skin in a reassuring clasp, his thumb rubs the inside of her elbow, sending shivers down her spine.

“Bellamy,” the name feels strange on her tongue, curling and looping in shapes she isn’t used to. It suits him.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says, his tone dripping with irony and, for a second, for half a heartbeat, she isn’t trapped inside the Mountain with Death’s sword dangling over her head, but in the cave, playing his silly game and sharing his rations. For a breathtaking instant, she is free and strong and unafraid.

Then the door beeps, and she crashes back into reality into a body that has been drained and beaten and caged; into a world of harsh unblinking lights and monsters.

Bellamy pulls his hand back through the grate, eyes narrowed.

Two Mountain Men unhook the dead body, disposing of it without ceremony. And then they approach their prisoners. They look bored and disinterested. The shorter of the two twirls, a set of keys between his fingers. “This one will do,” he drawls, grabbing the padlock.

Echo’s heart twists with the knowledge that she’s about to die; she will not survive a third bleeding. She crawls back, as far away as the walls of her enclosure will let her.

The hard edge of the pellet bowl digs into the small of her back, but she doesn’t notice. She can already feel the crackling of fire squeezing her lungs and pulling all her muscles taught. Bile rises to the back of her throat. The chafed skin of her ankles pulses.

From very far away, she hears a loud banging, but she can’t tear her eyes for the Mountain Men.

“Looks like we have us a live one.”

They step away from her cage. For a second, the spy doesn’t understand what’s happening. Then Bellamy’s body seizes. He gasps a pained breath, trying to regain control of his body as the Mountain men unlock the padlock. Even with his body shaking, suffering through the aftershocks of the metal stick, the Skaikru man crawls forward, eyes blazing. The first Mountain Man pushes the rod against his skin, robbing the control over his body for the second one to poke him with his needle.

Bellamy slumps, and the two monsters drag him out of the cage and towards the chains.

How far he has fallen, from the stars to the bowels of Earth. Kindness and fierceness devoured and hung to dry. Maybe some of that will pass on to the Mountain Men. Maybe behind that beeping door, someone will get the soft arch of his eyebrows and the devout fire of his leadership.

Maybe, he will live.

Echo hopes he doesn’t. At least, there is freedom in death.

***

The girl who enters doesn’t wear either a white coat or the dirt-colored uniform of the guards. She looks small in her soft colored clothes, feathery hair falling around her face in dark waves.

She shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot before approaching Bellamy’s hanging body. From where she is, Echo can see her worrying her lip and twisting her hands. Then she does something, and Bellamy gasps, jerking awake.

Is she one of his people?

“Maya?” The girl straightens, eyes going wide as she looks at the guard standing in the doorway. “You aren’t cleared for this facility.”

“I know.” She looks shifty and frightened. “I only wanted to know what was so special about him.” She is not a very good liar. “But he is dead.”

The guard approaches. “You are right. You are very brave coming in here.”

The girl, Maya, twists her lips into a trembling smile, while the guard lowers Bellamy to the ground and starts unfastening the cuffs on his ankles.

In the blink of an eye, Bellamy surges up, kicking him in the throat and rolling away. The man unholsters his gun. “Don’t move! I said, don’t move!”

The girl shifts behind the guard, stabbing him with a small shiny blade and Bellamy lounges, slapping the weapon out of the guard’s hand. They scramble, but the man has taken the small knife out of his wound and slashes wildly. Bellamy jumps back, clumsily stumbling away towards the cages. The Skaikru man dodges under the blade and manages to wrap his hands around the guard’s neck, shoving him so hard against the pens, they rattle loudly. When the guard raises a hand to stab Bellamy, Echo claws her fingers around his wrist, immobilizing him while Skaikru chokes him to death, eyes blazing and mouth dripping with blood. Towering over the slumped corpse, he looks feral, wild and majestic. His slanted eyes find hers, and he offers a savage smile, all blood coated teeth, and crackling adrenaline.

“Thank you.”

Then he turns towards the girl, who stands awkwardly a few feet away, her eyes full of terror and the guard’s weapon clutched in shaky hands.

“You alright?” She doesn’t react, doesn’t move when Bellamy approaches her, and only flinches when the man puts his hand on her arm. “Are you ok?” he asks softly, his shoulders curled in a way that makes him look small and unthreatening.

Maya breaths harshly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I am fine,” she manages. And, her voice is shaky and unconvincing, but she straightens and presses her lips into a tight line.

Together, Bellamy and Maya undress the guard and dispose of the body. The Skaikru man dons the brown garb. The girl uses the small, shiny knife to cut into his forearm and fish a little metal pill, which Bellamy sets inside his cage and closes the door.

“I will come back for you,” he says, his eyes so earnest it is impossible no to believe him.

Echo watches him leave with the young Mountain girl.

Freedom is so close; she can nearly taste it.

***

Three Kru members – two Delphikru and a Trikru – die before Bellamy returns, crawling out of a wall in his stolen clothes. He checks for threats before opening the padlock to her door. “I told you I’d come back for you,” he says, offering his hand to help her down. Her legs wobble from being unused for so long, but she manages to stand. “Our people are marching on Mount Weather right now.” The turns to the next cage with his keys. The boy inside, a Podakru farmer, whimpers, crawling back and kicks the Skaikru man’s hands when he tries to pull him out.

“It’s ok; we are getting you out.”

“They just bled him,” argues Echo, leaning heavily on the side of her cage. Around them, the Kru is starting to rouse, calling to be let out.

“Listen to me. There is an army inside this room. And I need you to help me to get them ready to fight. Can you do that?”

Echo takes a deep breath, fighting the wave of dizziness and the stiffness of her sore muscles. This is what she has been waiting for; this is their chance to escape, not only her but all of the Mountain’s prisoners. She needs to be strong.

Bellamy was sent here by Heda, he knows the plan, and can give the orders. Right now, she only needs to follow them. There is no need for planning and tactics, just following orders. And she can do that. She is strong enough to do that right now.

Echo gulps down a lungful of stale air and nods her head.

She is a soldier. She can do this.

“Good. Start with him.” 

The plan is simple enough, free the Kru, wait until Heda gives the signal, and then tear the Mountain to pieces from the inside out. Queen Nia would approve of this plan. They are halfway down the first row of cages when a disembodied voice starts talking to the Mountain Men.

“Shit,” grumbles Bellamy, pushing the keys into her hands. “He’s trying to make them turn on each other. They will find my friends.” He hurries towards the hole in the wall he came through. “I have to bring them here now. I’ll send them in groups. You get your people ready to go, but you wait for me to come back, you understand?”

Echo nods, pushing everything other than the mission out of her mind. Later there will be time to be tired and feel overwhelmed and dizzy, for now, she has a purpose.

“Wait.” She says before he can vanish. “Thank you.” The grim determination etched on his face softens slightly around his eyes. “You free your people. Protect mine when they get here. We can thank each other when we’re all outside.”

He crawls out of the room.

The spy doesn’t know how big the Mountain is, or how many Skaikru will be joining them. But she knows that, before they come, she has to get everyone out of the cages, gauge how fit everyone is to fight, how many will need protecting.

By the time she has managed to open two-thirds of the padlocks, her fingers shake so violently that she can barely stick the little key into the lock. Still, she pushes forward. Every prisoner she helps to their feet, she explains the plan, asks if they can fight, how long since the last time they were bled. Fortunately, most of them feel strong enough; the bad news is that most are not adequately trained. They are scavengers or merchants or farmers, half a theater troupe and two singers, gangly teens, and shaky seniors with gnarly hands and washed out tattoos.

The first group of Skaikru arrives through the hole in the wall. They regard the uncaged Kru with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance. A girl with dirty blonde hair steps forward. Like most of them, Echo remembers seeing her milling about in Skaikru camp, but she doesn’t recall her name or role.

“Bellamy said Echo was in charge?” The girl tries to sound authoritarian, but she can barely stand on her own, leaning heavily on one of her friends. She has cuts and bruises all over her face, which makes her stand out when surrounded by her people, who all seem reasonably sound.

“I am Echo,” the spy pushes her way through the crowd. Most of the cages are open by now.

The girl smiles. “I’m Harper.”

“You are the first to arrive. How many more are we expecting?”

“We are forty-five, total.”

“Can you fight?”

“We kicked your ass in the battle for the Dropship,” snaps someone at the back.

“Shut up, Peter,” sighs Harper. “Yes, we can fight. But we don’t have many weapons, mostly knives and assorted cutlery.”

“I have an ax,” offers another voice at the back.

Echo had forgotten how undisciplined and chaotic Skaikru was.

“Good. Some of my people won’t be able to fight, are any of yours injured.”

“Harper’s still recovering from the extraction,” says a small, deer-like girl.

“I am fine, Fox.”

“They bled you, too?”

Harper sighs, shaking her head. “No, they take bone marrow from us. But I am fine, Fox,” she addresses the deer-like girl with a roll of her eyes.

“Then you must keep your strength. Sit. There is something that can be considered food in the cages.”

Skaikru continues to tickle in, sometimes in pairs, other in larger groups. Harper and Fox keep a tally of their slowly growing numbers.

The air is charged with anticipation, the rumbling of a battle to come. Echo can nearly taste the blood that will soak these halls, the burn of muscles straining in combat. She longs for action, all thoughts of tiredness and weakness pushed out to revel in the violent dance of Life and Death.

Once the battle is won, once she has sated her thirst for justice, she will remember and curl up under the stars and sleep. But for now, her senses are sharp, and her skin hums. She longs for her sword. Roan gave her that iron years ago, and it served her faithfully ever since. But she can tear the Mountain Men apart with her own hands. She will slay the demons and return them to the myths and legends, where they belong.

This day will mark the end of the nightmare. When the sun rises over the mountains, Azgeda’s children will wake to the knowledge that the lurking monsters are no more.

A rumbling from above snaps her out of her musings. Reddish clouds waft through the ventilation shafts near the ceiling.

“Fuck!” snaps Harper.

“What is it?” It looks like the poisonous fog.

“It’s knock-out-gas.”

“We can’t wait any longer. We need to get out of here.” They try the door, but it won’t budge, and the cloud is descending rapidly over them. Those closest to the walls start crumbling to the floor.

Harper’s eyes are impossibly wide as she slams herself against the door, clawing at it with the desperation of a trapped animal. Echo feels her limbs grow heavy. Her knees give out from under her.

“This wasn’t the plan,” whimpers Fox, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “They weren’t supposed….” Her head rolls forward. In the sudden, eerie silence, the beep of the door sounds hauntingly loud.

The last thing Echo sees is a strange-faced monster striding into the room, stepping carefully over her body. It has a round black snout that looks like metal and reflective glass for eyes.

“All clear,” says the creature’s muffled voice. The spy fights against the urge to sleep, but it has hooked its claws on her, and it’s dragging her down. Down. Down.

***

Echo wakes in a dark chamber, surrounded by her people. The walls are gray stone, and there is a small metal door to her left. All the light comes from a large door, slightly ajar. Around her, the Kru are climbing slowly to their feed. Some of them have blankets thrown over their shoulders. Those closest to the open door, shuffle out.

“You are free to go,” announces a disembodied voice.

The spy pushes herself to her hands and knees. Her head seems to be full of lead, and when she straightens herself, the world tips dangerously to the side. Once again, her mouth feels as if it was stuffed with wool. The air in this room tastes different than it did in the cages, cleaner, lighter.

Slowly, Echo raised to her feet. Her legs shake like those of a new-born lamb, but she manages not to fall.

What happened? Have they won? No, that can’t be right. The room would be full of warriors; blood splattered on the walls if Heda had won the battle for the Mountain.

Echo peeks through the door and sees stars glinting in the sky, the familiar shape of rolling mountains in the distance, looming trees growing behind Heda’s silent army.

Her lungs expand for what feels the first time since her capture. Her naked feet sink into soft, dew-covered grass.

She walks towards the army in a daze, to the familiar scent of leather and metal and sweat. Someone asks which clan she hails from.

“Azgeda,” she answers without thinking, and a heavy hand lands on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” says the stranger, leading her through the crowd of warriors. It feels like a dream, with the edges shorn off and details washed out. “You will be home soon.”

Somewhere, very far away, someone blows a horn.

The sight of Azgeda’s banner makes her knees go weak. The hand on her shoulder guides her gently towards the general in charge. Echo recognizes his broad shoulders and square jaw instantly, and she could weep with relief. “Found another one of yours!”

General Gustav eyes her with a grim expression. Someone throws a warm fur coat over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling her away from her guide. “Are you alright?”

Echo nods, looking up into his earnest green eyes. “I am ready to fight.” It is a lie. Her body feels like it belongs to someone else, the world muted and unsteady, she doubts she could raise a blade.

“We are retreating. It’s back to the Winter Palace for you.”

The words seem to take a long time to reach her brain, fighting their way through foggy moors. But when they finally register, they don’t make sense.

“What of the mountain?”

Gustav shrugs. “They are blowing the retreat horns. I sent someone to find out what’s going on at the frontlines. If I had sent you, you would have already come back with the answers.”

The compliment makes warmth curl in her stomach. Her body moves, guided by Gustav’s familiar hand. She feels as if she was wading through chest-high waters; the flickering lights of torches throw garish shadows against the trees. At some point, Gustav’s informant comes back, but his words are nothing but a jumbled mess, noise that sounds like trig but doesn’t mean anything.

Echo continues walking, barely aware of the pine needles poking her bare feet and stones scratching her skin. The coat smells of roasted meat and firewood and the slightest hint of snow; it smells like home.

At some point, someone puts food in her hand—a juicy piece of meat, the skin crisp, and the flesh tender. After the dry pellets, the simple meal overloads her senses; her stomach growls, and she can barely pace herself as she tears the meat off the bone, juices dripping down her throat. When they push a skin into her hand, she downs the water in two gulps.

Eating was a mistake.

With her sated belly warm and heavy, walking becomes increasingly difficult. Tiredness has caught up with her now that she isn’t riding high on the promise of battle, pulling her limbs down and her eyelids closed.

She is barely aware that she should be finding out why they retreated, what happened to the Skaikru prisoners—maybe asking someone to lend her some boots. Instead, she continues walking, trying to keep the pace of the soldiers around her. With each heartbeat, she is closer to home, that is the only thing that matters.

***

Information reaches Azgeda slowly over the next week. After Heda’s treaty with the Mountain Men, Sakikru, led by Wanheda, burnt the Kru’s age-old enemy from the inside out, conquering the land and claiming the spoils for their new encampment in Trikru territory. 

To say that Queen Nia is displeased is a rather massive understatement.

“That child dishonors us all!” growls the Queen, pacing angrily up and down her study. “This Coalition is full of cowards.”

Echo stands near the door, her arms clasped at her back. Nia’s writing desk is in front of large windows draped with beautifully woven blue curtains. Her straight-backed chair is askance from when the Queen vaulted out of it a few seconds ago.

The study is relatively small, the walls lined with shelves stuffed with all manner of books. Queen Nia’s grandfather had been a great scholar and made sure everyone in his capital knew how to read and write. His son had established the Seat of the Copyists, where old and new manuscripts were reproduced and sent to the houses of Azgeda’s Viceroys all over Azgeda’s vast territory. Queen Nia continued the tradition, mainly because it gave Azgeda an advantage over other, less educated clans. To be able to send written messages is a tactical advantage, and Nia enjoys being above everyone else in the room.

Slumped across from the Queen’s writing desk is Princess Fulla, a fifteen-year-old with her mother’s sharp blue gaze and her father’s sharp cheekbones. Now that prince Roan is in exile, she is the next in line for the throne.

“Well, letting Skaikru take all the risks while reaping the benefits of getting our people out of the Mountain may be considered a smart move,” pipes Princess Fulla. Out of the corner of her eye, Echo sees Ontari’s ever-present shadow moving slowly along the edges of the room.

“It is an honorless move,” snaps the Queen, and Echo has to bite her tongue to keep quiet. Nia has never been concerned with honor. “Worse less, it makes us look weak.”

“The only one who looks weak is Heda,” says Echo. “She betrayed Wanheda after declaring her an allay, which sets a dangerous precedent for the members of her Coalition.”

Fulla huffs, but Nia purses her lips in thought.

“Right now, the clans are preparing for winter, stewing in the insult to their honor. But as soon as the snows start to melt, Heda can make her tours and reaffirm her strength. Unless someone challenges her during the spring summit.”

“Mother is not stupid enough to challenge Heda, no matter how unstable her reign.”

Queen Nia narrows her eyes at Echo. “Unless we had some sort of tactical advantage.”

“Skaikru could be persuaded to understand that Azgeda didn’t have anything to do with Heda’s betrayal. Queen Nia could send a small delegation of scholars and workers in thanks for destroying our enemy. Three months should be enough for said delegation to learn how to replicate their technology and weaponry.”

“The other clans will never accept the use of Mountain weapons,” huffs Fulla crossing her arms over her chest.

The Queen takes a seat, leaning against the backrest with a frown playing around her lips.

“From what our people saw, Skaikru and Trikru have already started relations; if Trikru gets their knowledge, they will give it to Heda. Indra is, above all, loyal to the Commander.”

“Or,” grumbles the princess, “we could destroy their resources. Burn the Mountain and salt the remains.”

“The Mountain is impenetrable, and I will not launch a winter campaign against a fortified stronghold.” The Queen rubs her bottom lip. “But, I could plant a few snakes inside their walls. Our crops have been generous this year. We shall send Skaikru a gift of five thralls and two crates of corn in thanks for destroying our enemy for us.” Her icy blue eyes land on Fulla. “And my daughter shall be the one to deliver these tokens herself. After all, if it weren’t for their intervention, she would have perished in the Mountain.”

The princess groans.

“I hate playing pretend, mother. That was Roan’s thing, and you know it.”

“This isn’t a suggestion, Fulla. It is your Queen’s will.”

The princess works her jaw but eventually bows her head. “As my Queen wishes.”

“Good. Echo will be your personal guard on this excursion. And with a heavy heart, you will leave her behind to joint Skaikru’s defense.” Fulla rolls her eyes, but nods, nonetheless. “Good. You should start your preparations; you’ll leave within the week.”

Fulla storms out of the room, leaving Echo alone with the Queen and Ontari, skulking in the corner.

“And Echo, don’t fail me again.”

“I won’t, my Queen.”

The spy leaves the Queen’s study, walking purposefully down the corridors towards the stables. The Winter Palace is an elaborate stone structure, a compendium of buildings joined together through bridges and narrow passages towering over Troit. The stables are on the bottom floor, a large hall that houses some of the best steeds on this side of the Wastelands.

Echo enjoys spending time tending to them. The repetitive motion of brushing them down and cleaning after them relaxes the knots in her shoulders. Prince Roan’s horse is a dark bay mare with a white star on her brow and a large scar on her shoulder. Much like the exiled prince, she is smart and calm, never loses her temper.

Echo rubs the spot between her ears she likes and gets a welcoming huff.

The stable boys leave her to her own devices as she combs the mare’s long mane, picking straw out of it.

She isn’t looking forward to traveling with Fulla. The princess is vain and proud and doesn’t listen to anyone’s advice. Having her pretend to be one of the Mountain’s prisoners will grant her only so much sympathy, but not enough to make a good deal.

It should be Roan riding with her to Skaikru’s. Echo and Roan always made a good team. The former crown prince had a way with words, was likable and charming in a way neither his mother nor his siblings are.

Echo sighs.

No point in dwelling in the past. She will leave with Fulla and needs to get her thoughts in order; plan the best way to infiltrate Skaikru’s inner circle, the quickest way to get her people to learn everything they’ll need. A season is not a long time. Fortunately, Azgeda is smart; Queen Nia will select capable scholars.

“When are you leaving again?”

She turns to see Gustav leaning against the wall; arms crossed casually over his chest.

“Who said that I was leaving?”

“Fulla. She’s throwing a tantrum loud enough to be heard in Shallow Valley. I am glad I don’t need to be part of that catastrophe waiting to happen.”

“I can always put in a good word for you to make it as guard detail.”

“I am way too lowly for Her Highness.”

“Well, this could be the perfect chance to find redemption for your past failures.”

“I didn’t think you’d miss me that much.”

“I won’t. I only think the more eyes on our future Queen, the better. She is Azgeda’s future.”

Gustav nods solemnly. “May Queen Nia live forever.”

Echo hides her smirk, busying herself in untangling a stubborn knot in the mare’s mane while the general shifts on his feet, fretting like an old wife. “So, I was thinking. We could go down into Torit. There is this play I have been meaning to see. And, maybe, later we could go to the bathhouse. Grab something to eat on the way.”

“What play?”

Gustav shrugs, and Echo has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “I am not sure.”

“I swear if it’s another poetry reading…”

“No, no. No poetry.”

She hums. “I am not sure I trust your opinion of what constitutes good theater.”

“I didn’t say it was good. I only said I thought you might like it. Plus, you have been gone for a long time, who knows how long it will be before you get the chance to watch a quality Az performance.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

He beams at her as she steps out of the mare’s box and leaves the brush on the rack with the other grooming tools.

Troit is a massive city curled next to the Det river. Polis may have one massive tower from before Praimfaya, Troit has dozens. Buildings that raise high above the ground, housing artisans and artists, and wealthy merchants. The streets are always crowded and always full of smells and laughter and haggling. Echo matches her step with Gustav’s as they join the fray of people going about their lives, children running around, relaxed soldiers enjoying a drink with friends, farmers selling their wares…

This is why every miserable week undercover, every night spent sleeping under the stars, ever battle fought, every wound is worth the discomfort, hunger, and pain. Azgeda is a jewel that is worth every drop of spilled blood. Everyone, from the lowliest of Azgeda’s thieves to the Queen, her unwavering devotion.


	3. Chapter 3

Arkadia doesn’t look anything like the chaotic camp Echo spent three weeks spying on. The only similitude is that it is built around a large metal vessel. Still, unlike the skyship, which was a sort of rectangular beast, this is a large ring, halfway buried into the ground and arching up into the sky, higher than Troit’s spires or the Commander’s Tower in Polis. It is surrounded by a large fence that hums ominously like the Mountain Men’s metal sticks did. Watchtowers have been built at regular intervals, and the trees in a two-mile radius have been cleared, to protect the stronghold from possible ambushes.

“I thought you said it was a small camp,” grumbles princess Fulla, pursing her lips.

“Their first camp was a few miles east from here. It was very small and disorganized.”

“You always have an excuse ready, don’t you, spy?” The princess throws her shoulders back, jutting her pointy chin out.

Their party is small: three riders and a cart bearing Queen Nia’s gifts and the scholars that will be passed as thralls. At the head, Echo rides beside Fulla’s dapple-gray horse. The spy is dressed in the simple short tunic and leggings of the palace’s maids, a worn deerskin-coat decorated with beads wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is pulled back in delicate-looking beaded braids that make her feel slightly self-conscious. The only weapon she is allowed to carry in her new role is a short sword at her hip and two knives: one in her boot and one strapped to her forearm, hidden in her sleeve.

Fulla stops her horse at the gates. “I demand an audience with Skaikru’s heda!” She shouts, raising her head so that the afternoon sun shines clearly on the brands bracketing her eyes, marking her, not only as Azgeda but royalty.

“Who is it?!” answers some unseen guard from the watchtower.

“Hainofi Fulla kom Azgeda, here on behalf of Haiplana Nia,” says Echo before Fulla can make a fool of herself. Judging by the murderous gleam in her eyes, the princess is not pleased with her intervention. Echo doesn’t care. She has one mission: to get herself and the scholars into Skaikru’s city and gather information.

They don’t receive an answer for a few minutes, in which the Azgeda party is made to wait at the closed gate. Then, the hum stops, and the great doors slide open. Seven guards stand at attention by the sides of a dirt road.

As they guide their horses into Arkadia, Echo notices the half-built log cabins and the tarp tents, there is a large glass structure off to the left and what looks like a bar with barrels and crates turned into makeshift tables and stools. The narrow paths between the tents and huts are full of Skaikru, dressed in faced blue and gray. The soldiers hold their weapons loosely, watching the Azgeda delegation with narrowed eyes and twitchy fingers.

The leaders, Kein and Abi, stand by the hulking metal arch. They wear no distinctive clothes: Kein the bulky soldier jacket and Abi thin blue layers that will do nothing to protect her from the impending winter. Like the rest of their people, they have no markings to announce status or clan. Then again, how many other clans can there be in the clouds?

Echo dismounts first, hurrying to assist Fulla, her head bent in deference to her supposed mistress. She follows the princess at a respectable distance, hoping against hope that she will swallow her ego, and not antagonize the Skaikru leaders.

“Good afternoon,” says the bearded man with a smile, “Hainofi Fulla,” he finishes slowly like he’s testing out the foreign words. “I am Chancellor Marcus Kane, and this is co-Chancellor, Abby Griffin. We weren’t expecting guests.”

Fulla stares unblinkingly at him for an interminable moment, her face unreadable. She is tall, like all of Nia’s children, solidly built and sharply cut, her skin littered with the scars of her victories and her body covered with the most beautiful furs and shiniest treasures of those competing for her attention. Out of all of Queen Nia’s children, Fulla is the most arrogant and the cruelest.

The princess bows deeply. Echo throws herself on her knees a little less gracefully than she would have liked, splattering mud over her leggings. Behind her, the rest of their party scrambling to do the same. Instead of pleased, the two Chancellors look alarmed and embarrassed. The princess speaks before either can move. “I come in humble supplication, to pay proper respect to the heroes that saved my life.”

“There is no need for that,” says Kein awkwardly, his voice gentle. “Please, raise.” Fulla straightens, and Echo climbs back to her feet, discretely dusting the dirt off her knees, these clothes are too nice to go rolling around in mud.

“Why don’t we take this inside?” suggests Abi. “Monroe!”

An angry-looking teen charges forward, her hair pulled back into a fierce fishtail braid and hard eyes ablaze. She wears an ill-fitting black guard’s jacket that seems to swallow her small frame whole. Echo recognizes her as one of Bellamy’s people, and a part of her can’t help but wonder where the young man is.

“Please, take their horses to the stables.”

“First,” interrupts Fulla, her voice pitched low, trying to sound humble, “we bring gifts.” She points at the cart carrying two large barrels of corn and a chest of furs. “To help during the long winter months.” The two Chancellors exchange a look. “I hope you’ll excuse the lack of dies. Had we known you preferred blue, we would have added it.”

“This is… Thank you, you are very generous.”

Fulla nods. “My people will help you take the barrels to wherever they need taking while we converse.”

“This way.”

Echo follows the two Chancellors and Fulla into the metal structure. The light is harsh and white like it was in the Mountain, their footsteps echo dully on the gray walls and gray ceiling and gray floors. Whenever they cross paths with Skaikru, the sky people stop to stare, deep frowns etched on their brows. The princess acts as if she doesn’t notice, her back straight and hands hooked loosely on her belt. The spy’s nerves are on edge, every instinct in her body telling her to _get out_. _Get out before they put you back into a cage. This place is not safe, take Fulla and leave._

“Echo?” The familiar voice jolts her out of the spiraling thoughts. She blinks up to see a young woman in a soldier’s uniform trot in her direction, her dirty-blond hair pulled back into a simple braid and a broad smile on her soft face. It takes the spy embarrassingly long to place her.

“Harper,” she manages. Her throat is uncomfortably dry, her skin clammy with cold sweat.

The sky woman crashes into her, throwing her arms around Echo in a hug so sudden, she has to fight the knee-jerk reaction of throwing her over her shoulder and slicing her throat open.

 _Keep it together, girl_. Echo admonishes herself.

“I am so glad that you are ok!” says the woman with baffling honesty.

“I can see you have recovered from your injuries,” answers the spy, trying desperately to keep her voice level.

“Yeah. Was benched for over a week. But thank god, I am out of med bay.” Her eyes flit to the Chancellors. “Without overdoing it.”

“Hainofi Fulla, meet Harper kom Skaikru. She organized the Skaikru prisoners in the Mountain and showed great courage.”

Harper’s ears turn bright pink.

“ _Hanofi_ , that means… princess in trig, right?”

“You know trigedasleng?” asks Fulla, taking a step closer to the teen.

“Not much. Lincoln is teaching us, but it is complicated.” She chuckles self-deprecatingly. “I was never good with languages.”

Fulla takes Harper’s hand and bows her head over it. “I thank you, brave Skaikru _yontsleya; you_ have done Azgeda a great service.”

Kein clears his throat. “This way.”

They leave Harper behind and continue down the winding metal corridors into a room dominated by a large metal desk. Light streams through a rectangular bay window at the back. Echo comes to stand behind Fulla’s metal chair, hands clasped at her back, Kein and Abi sit across from the princess. The woman looks tired and worn, deep creases around her eyes, and her mouth pulled into a tight unhappy line. Kein’s expression is kind, his eyes as soft as Abi’s are weary. 

“So,” says Abi, her tone harsher than Kein’s, “to what do we owe the honor?”

“As I said, I come to thank the slayers of the Mountain.”

“Won’t your Commander have something to say about that?”

Fulla bristles. “Heda forced our troops to abandon Skaikru on the battlefield. My mother had no choice but to obey. Since I was one of the Mountain’s prisoners, she wouldn’t risk Heda’s wrath. But now, the threat is gone. Azgeda is free to show gratitude for your service. And to offer overdue repayment. Seven Azgedan citizens were retrieved from captivity, me among them. As you may have noticed, I have come with eight able-bodied thralls. They are yours, including my dearest handmaiden, Echo. That is the depth of Azgeda’s gratefulness.”

The two Skaikru leaders look appalled.

“Absolutely not!” snaps Abi.

“I am sorry,” tries Kein in a more diplomatic tone. “But we cannot accept your people. Skaikru doesn’t allow human trafficking of any kind.”

“But they are a gift!” stammers Fulla. “I handpicked them myself!” 

Kein and Abi seem appalled. They won’t accept, Echo can see it in the arch of their eyebrows. Nothing Fulla says will make them take their people as thralls or indentured servants.

“You would insult the Queen of Azgeda?”

Echo licks her lips.

“If I may, my princess. Maybe Skaikru would feel more comfortable accepting a symbolic exchange. Our hard workers to help during the harsh winter months, for… maybe, some sort of token payment? Maybe their stories, so we can relay them on the great halls of Troit for my princess’ entertainment?” The spy chances a look at the Skaikru leaders.

“That is hardly any repayment for what they have done,” snaps Fulla, and even though Echo is standing behind her, she can nearly see her pout. Which is good. If Skaikru thinks Azgeda feels indebted to them, they will lower their guard more easily. Across the large desk, Kein is considering it, of course, he is. From what Echo gathered observing Bellamy’s people, Skaikru is woefully unprepared for life in its new environment, and winter is just around the corner.

“We will accept this as a token of your gratitude,” he says slowly, diplomatically, his eyes skipping to the woman beside him. “And when spring comes, we could talk to your mother, and establish some commerce routes. I am sure there is much we can learn from each other.”

Fulla huffs.

“This is a very small price to pay for the lives of my people. For banishing the monsters that hunted these lands for so long.” She raises, her shoulders thrown back with all the pride of a queen. “I will accept your terms. My people won’t belong to you, they will stay and help you prepare for winter, make sure the White Horses don’t take any of your people.”

Abi smiles. “We thank you for that.”

“You are welcome to join us for dinner,” says Kein raising.

“I would be delighted to try the strange delicacies of the sky.”

The man stands with a smile. “Of course,” he says, “we are all relatively new to cooking meats and fresh vegetables.”

Fulla and Echo share a look. _What did the sky people eat if not meat and vegetables?_

The Chancellors guide them through the metal structure to a large open area. It is divided into different sections: a mess hall, a sorting station, a space with a weird-looking coach. Echo recognizes a handful of people from her weeks watching Skaikru’s first camp, but most of them are strangers. At the mess hall, the people carry metal trays holding meager, odd-looking rations. 

They follow Kein and Abi to the kitchen staff and pick up their own trays. Echo selects one for Fulla and another for herself, watching the small woman behind the counter, as she dumps a brown gruel into small bowls. It looks disgusting, but Echo smiles at the woman and retreats, trailing after the Chancellors.

“ _It is very amusing,_ ” says Fulla in trigedasleng, “ _watching you scramble to prevent me from antagonizing these fools. I get now why my brothers were so fond of you.”_

Echo bites her tongue at the mention of Azgeda’s princes, takes a deep breath through her nose, and pitches her voice down, to sound as dutiful and deferential as possible.

_“Your mother wishes this operation to go smoothly.”_

_“And you always carry my mother’s wishes out, don’t you?”_

Echo forces her smile to remain on her lips as she sets the trays down.

“Please,” says Kein, “sit with us.”

“Echo is a servant. She would never sit beside royalty.” Fulla fixes her with an icy stare; the smile on her lips doesn’t waver as she speaks in trig. “ _I guess you can eat at my feet and pretend they are my mother’s.”_

The spy fights the blush that threatens to creep on her cheeks. Echo hasn’t knelt by the royal table since she was a child. She has risen above that position through hard work and unquestionable merits, gaining a seat at the general’s table. Still, there is little she can do other than folding herself by the princess’ chair and keep her pleasant smile on her lips. It won’t be long until Fulla leaves to go back to Troit, and Echo won’t have to endure the girl’s humiliations anymore.

“ _My princess is very considerate_ ,” spits the spy.

“ _She is, isn’t she?”_

Echo swallows her anger and humiliation.

This is all part of the job, and she knows how to blend in, how to slip into a new skin and get the job done. _Let them see you as useless, as humble and weak as possible,_ said Spymaster Murray. _Nobody notices a servant carrying food, nobody pays thralls any mind, that is an arrogance that you need to exploit._

Echo dips her fingers into the brown gruel on her tray and licks them clean. Skaikru’s food tastes like salted cinder, iron, and rosins.

_Pride is a luxury she can’t afford._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting.  
> As always, this was unbeta'd


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